


Rarášek addendum - euphemisms and literal fire

by depresane



Category: Original Work
Genre: BDSM self-discovery, Euphemisms, F/F, Femslash, Fire, Fire play, Genital Torture, Ghost Sex, Ghosts, Improvised Sex Toys, Metaphors, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Paraphilias, Porn, Sensation Play, Smut, Supernatural Elements, Temperature Play, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, analogies, fantasizing about dead lover, ghost - Freeform, lol how do I even call that?, thought cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25932334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/depresane/pseuds/depresane
Summary: I heavily edited the Chapter Three ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/21398941/chapters/63028447 ) because I went overboard with the sex scenes. Here's the explicit version.Don't try any of this, ever, or do a proper research. My point was to highlight Wrocmira's otherness as a ghost.





	Rarášek addendum - euphemisms and literal fire

She summoned a vortex strong enough to pick Vendula, yet slow enough not to cause nausea. Distracted, but not terrified, she looked around and dangled her feet.  
Wrocmira flew towards her, took her blouse off and raised her shirt a little. Plenty short stretch marks covered the hiker’s skin like sparks of electricity. With a single caress upwards, the ghost analysed her side; it didn't tickle.  
Her lips felt like smoke from a candle, like bird down, like an apple petal.  
Vendula wanted to reach out with her tongue; she sensed on its tip that Wrocmira's steam-like body condensed. The contrast surprised her.  
As Wrocmira turned that impatient furnace on and increased its temperature by twisting control switches, her own hands grew colder and wetter; in return, the chill excited Vendula to the point where she moaned a smile.  
The vintage lover let go of Vendula's handles, leaving them stiff and poking through her damp shirt. Travelling down her sides, tracing her belly, replying to her longing tongue, she kept playing, amplifying the heat.  
Inside the furnace, a clay jug warmed up, its spout ready to meet the lover's lips.  
Vendula slided her trousers down. Wrocmira started on her knee, allowing the temperature paradox to do its work. She seemed to be dragging her journey up the left thigh. When she glided her finger across the groin, Vendula snapped with her teeth in bliss.  
"Don't hesitate," she begged.  
Wrocmira pinched Vendula's underwear and pulled it gracefully. She dived in, like when she used to cool her hand in a lake, mixing fresh water and fluttering her fingers. Except that night, Vendula's body warmed her up. At last, she seized a reminder of her past life.  
Wrocmira worked vigorously, appreciating her lover's joyful heat. Vendula forgot about her furnace, about her jug, about her mildly wet clothes, about the lack of ground under her feet. She was suspended in that surreal night, in the mesmerising spin, in the comfort she had been missing for years.  
As honey started dripping, Wrocmira departed from Vendula's lips to bow down and taste it. She twitched out of pleasure. Each lick brought in even more syrup, so it took the lover minutes to exhaust the vessel.

With her cheeks still blooming pink, the hiker landed and fixed her clothes. The duo kissed again; Wrocmira's dew ran down her lover's chin and fell on her shirt.  
When Vendula breathed easily again, Wrocmira exposed her shoulders. "You asked whether I could feel lust as a ghost, and I answered with semi-truth. The only successful method for me is to remember the sight and sensations from my earthly life, which means... I'd have to think about my sweetheart while you'd be satisfying me. A passive procedure of recalling. If you can forgive me such neglect, then you are free to tease me."  
"What do you suggest?"  
"Break a plank, make it vaguely phallic. Light it up. Figure out the rest."  
Vendula's eyes grew. "I won't burn you, will I?"  
"You won't hurt me."  
"Alright, and... what was her name? In case you yell it at climax or something."  
"Asteria."  
"Well then. Undress."  
Undress she did, revealing more freckles and neatly trimmed hair. She reclined on the chair, rested her leg on the end table and parted her labia with two fingers.  
Vendula realised her role would be less magical and closer to human sex. Excluding the fire, but then again, considering all those wax enthusiasts...  
She giggled nervously, thinking, "Oh lol, that could count as genital torture. ... On a ghost. You've already entered the messy zone, Ven. Deliver what you're expected to."  
Having taken a deep breath, she prepared the plank, set it on fire, walked closer to Wrocmira and began the most questionable sex in her life. First, she put the flames under her chin. One nodded approval and the thin torch moved down, hissing against the lover's upper chest. The spectre turned, suggesting that Vendula should warm her back next. The condensed drops all over her body started to resemble sweat. She swirled again, cussing positively.  
The moment of truth. Vendula let the flames cover Wrocmira's crotch. The glowing ash tip pressed against her clit with a louder hiss.  
Indeed, she wasn't paying attention to Vendula. With her eyes closed and upper teeth gently showing, she was whirling, whispering, straightening her torso to bend it again, spreading her legs to close them again, completely entranced and... somehow, as those lowered eyebrows and blushing cheeks implied, as thankful as Vendula was mere minutes ago.  
She moved the flames aside and watched the change in the lover's genitals. It was easy for her to compare it to an open rose, but very challenging to accept what she had to do to give it back the memory of arousal.  
One gesture with two fingers pointing to her face. "Come."  
The hiker coughed and aimed carefully. The burning tip of the plank slowly sank inside; the blaze shone beneath the supernatural flesh, as if it were a lamp with walls made of tissue paper. The plank slided down and up again, pumping heat into the lover and adding fiery highlights to her pubic hair.  
Wrocmira grabbed her own breasts, clutching the nipples. She tilted her head in ecstatic shout. Vendula stared: how smooth her neck, how vivid her belly, how swollen her labia. New pleasure sprouted in her and fresh portion of honey blessed her underwear.  
The ghost remembered what her climax used to feel like: a trot right after a race, the first bite into a plum right after harvest.  
One last gesture and Vendula removed the plank.  
"It is done," spoke Wrocmira, panting, still squeezing her nipples.  
The plank landed on the bonfire. Vendula returned to the spectre and traced her jawline, smearing the drops. "I'm glad to have witnessed this."  
Wrocmira bit her lower lip. "Likewise. I will cherish this night." She sat up and kissed Vendula; she meant to stand up afterwards but the butch followed her lips like a bee follows a flower in the wind. They resumed the passionate ritual.

**Author's Note:**

> It is intentional that Vendula's erotic experience is full of analogies while Wrocmira's uses anatomic nouns.
> 
> In the draft, I compared Ven's vagina and uterus to an ocarina. (cringe?) I changed that into a jug for consistency.


End file.
